


Ways to Burn

by wolfwalkerspirit



Category: Promare (2019)
Genre: M/M, Romance, Some hurt/comfort, bed sharing, mostly Lio thirsting after Galo tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:00:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22624456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfwalkerspirit/pseuds/wolfwalkerspirit
Summary: Something about Galo makes Lio burn. And it’s different than the ever-present whisper clinging in the back of his mind, the cries to light fires and watch the world crumble to ash. No, with Galo, it’s his own body that burns. His heart catches and stutters into flame like a struck match, fizzling alight until it burns bright and furious, crackling to eat up phosphorous and wood, or flesh and bone. The flare makes his stomach go hot and tight, makes his lungs tremble with breathlessness behind aching ribs. Fire sweeps out through his veins, catching every nerve along its path and branching farther until everything from the nape of his neck to the tips of his fingers is alive with flickering heat. He can taste smoke on his tongue, curling up his throat.Galo makes him burn.
Relationships: Lio Fotia/Galo Thymos
Comments: 7
Kudos: 162





	Ways to Burn

**Author's Note:**

> For context, this takes place in an AU where Lio retained his Burnish abilities after the events of the movie.

Something about Galo makes Lio burn. And it’s different than the ever-present whisper clinging in the back of his mind, the cries to light fires and watch the world crumble to ash. No, with Galo, it’s his own body that burns. His heart catches and stutters into flame like a struck match, fizzling alight until it burns bright and furious, crackling to eat up phosphorous and wood, or flesh and bone. The flare makes his stomach go hot and tight, makes his lungs tremble with breathlessness behind aching ribs. Fire sweeps out through his veins, catching every nerve along its path and branching farther until everything from the nape of his neck to the tips of his fingers is alive with flickering heat. He can taste smoke on his tongue, curling up his throat.

Galo makes him burn. 

It doesn’t take much either. The first time, it was just a simple touch, the brush of a hand across the small of Lio’s back as Galo maneuvered behind him, but it sent something low and smoldering to brew in the pit of his stomach for the next hour as he tried to forget the sparks that danced across his skin where Galo’s warmth had seeped past fabric to melt into flesh. It was enough, then, to spark a blaze. Now, every touch, every gaze, every stupidly broad smile is a shake of gasoline to the fire, bringing about a big flare that inevitably quiets once it burns through the fuel. Yet, Lio finds that, sometimes, after Galo does something furiously heroic, or when he’s overly comfortable and friendly, that fuel takes longer and longer to burn through. What was once status quo, a simple flicker and dance of flames, seems to be an unreachable low, now, as whatever he feels for Galo, stuck deep in his chest, a part of him as much as the presence of Promare, builds and builds and builds. 

What used to take seconds to burn through and fizzle out, just long enough for the flush to recede from Lio’s cheeks, sometimes stretches out into minutes, hours. Then there are the nights. The nights are where Lio’s mind replays the potent and fiery moments that have branded into his head. Like the day Galo decided that sweeping Lio into his arms like a fucking romantic after a particularly tough rescue was a good idea. And if that weren’t enough, he had to steel that grip of his when Lio started thrashing and fighting, insisting he could manage on his own, all while his heart leapt out of control and his knees went weak and loose at the dizzying strength Galo possessed and flexed on him. And, of course, the dumbass wasn’t wearing a shirt, so every ripple of his muscles wasn’t just right there for Lio to feel, but for him to see too. That night, Lio wrestled and fought with the memory of skin against skin before he gave in and let the heat and fire consume him, spooling up tight in his gut and working hotter, heavier. That night, he succumbed to the pull of sleep sweaty and sticky on top of the sheets, hair disheveled, cheeks flushed hot, tension not worked but ripped from his muscles, Galo’s name bitten back behind his teeth, because, god, did he want nothing more than to scream it.

Lio thinks about that night, and the others just like it, far more than he cares to admit. But sometimes, when he’s sitting around the station, bored out of his mind when someone finally decides to wrench his work from his grasp and order him to take a break, or when he’s on a serious adrenaline crash after a rescue, he needs something to burn on. He lets the heat roll up and down his spine, spinning a pen between his fingers all the while. It’s an absent thing, a way to occupy his hands so he doesn’t start sparking flames at his fingertips. One such time, he watches Galo meander through the rec room, talking animatedly with Aina about something Lio doesn’t bother to listen to. He takes in the curves and ridges of muscle instead, following the lines up Galo’s arms, across his shoulders, down his chest, until they dip tantalizingly beneath the low slung waist of his pants. When had Lio started seeing Galo as more than the idiot firefighter with the burning soul, he wonders? Always, probably. Now, he just has the opportunity to indulge the thoughts when they come, with the world settled back on its axis again. Still, when Galo meets his gaze from across the room, it’s the beaming smile he flashes over that has his stomach surging into an upset inferno more than any superficial thing would. Because that smile is warm, it’s comfortable, and damn if it isn’t starting to feel like home. And that’s a little scary, a little nauseating, because Lio’s come to count on it, and he’s never done that before. 

The pen falls from between his fingers and clatters to the desk below. Huffing out a breath, Lio shuts down the indulgent thoughts. His gaze drifts off of Galo, and he draws his knees to his chest, not sure whether to quell or nurture the pit of flame burning in his stomach. Either way, he holds it, feels it, and busies his mind with other things.

There is more than one way to burn, Lio realizes a little later. It isn’t always the heady, wanting surge of heat, demanding to be stoked. Now, he sees the sweeter side, the human side, that’s more ember and coal than raging blaze. It’s a pleasant warmth, humming in his fingers and over the bridge of his nose. It unfurls around his heart and suffuses out through his chest, slow and unhurried. That kind of burn, he’s only ever known a handful of times, and a particular firefighting presence has grown increasingly adept in coaxing it to life. Once, it was when he brought Lio home with him, like it was the most natural thing in the world, and for the first time in a long time, Lio had warm food, a soft place to sleep, and a proper roof over his head, all because of Galo. Another time, it was just watching Galo clamor over Lucia’s newest design, a mech the two of them could pilot together, just like the Lio De Galon, or whatever that thing ended up being called. He was so excited that Lio couldn’t help but feed off the electric energy in the air, something fond taking root in his chest all the while. 

And another time, he regards above all the rest, because it was in no way simple and easy. Even thinking on it, Lio’s drawn back into the moment, the softness of it all. 

It’s late into the night, and Lio is jolted forward out of sleep. His heart hammers in his chest, pounding relentlessly against his ribs, hard enough that he’s sure they’ll crack. They don’t, but it still feels like they could. Something between a gasp and a groan wrestles free from his throat before he can choke it down, and before he knows what he’s doing, Lio throws off the covers and climbs off of the air mattress that has become his in the months since crashing with Galo. There are tears in his eyes, leaking, spilling, and he doesn’t know what he’s doing, where he’s going, but he needs to escape. For a moment, he paces in a ragged line, arms drawn tight around his chest, nails digging into his arms hard enough to sting. The memory of the dream, whatever it was, is already fading, but the horror and pain is fresh. 

Pacing doesn’t cut it, doesn’t ease the panic clawing cold and ruthless at his chest, so he turns abruptly for the door. Shoes are an afterthought, keys are an afterthought, clothes beyond the boxers and t-shirt he slept in are an afterthought. He drags in a breath, two, then throws the door open, the chilled night air rushing in to cool the heat stinging in his eyes, spilling down his cheeks. But before he can make it one step out the door, there’s a hand on his stomach, solid and firm, holding him in place. Then, he feels the familiar warmth and weight of Galo’s chest molding against his spine. A staggering breath rips from Lio’s lungs, and the rage and panic loosen their hold. 

“What’s going on, Lio?” Galo asks, voice low and rough-edged with sleep, but no less gentle for it. 

Shame burns on his cheeks as hot as the tears rolling down them. But now Galo knows, he’s seen, and Lio knows he can’t hide. He can’t put up a front anymore. So, instead, he forces the tension out of his muscles, one at a time from his clenched jaw to his legs, still aching with the urge to run. Galo only waits patiently, as calm and quiet as Lio has ever seen him, and his even breaths stir the hair at the crown of Lio’s head. 

“Nightmare,” Lio explains when he finally feels like he has enough control to grit out the word without his voice breaking or wavering on him. He’s still proud when it sounds even and collected, not shaking in the slightest. 

Something between them shifts, and suddenly, Lio finds himself wondering if Galo knows what it’s like, to be ripped from a dream and wake up in a blind panic, or crying, or feeling like his heart’s been torn apart. “Everything’s okay,” Galo assures, holding Lio a little tighter to his chest. Lio can feel his heartbeat, then, steady and reassuring, and wishes his own would slow to meet the soothing rhythm. Still, the tears have stopped falling, and that’s progress. 

After what feels like an eternity, though Lio reasons it was probably only a few, fleeting moments, Galo reaches around in front of him and pulls the door shut. And, strangely enough, Lio doesn’t feel the urge to rip it open again. Instead, he lets Galo take him by the hands and guide him back into the apartment. Though, this time, he’s pulled along into Galo’s room, up to the bed that’s set beside the window, pale moonlight shining through. He hesitates, and Galo stops short, looking back at him with bright, melting eyes. “I thought you might sleep better here?” He says it like a question, an offer, and tilts his head to one side in a way that looks remarkably like a puppy, endearing and filled with the kind of genuine concern and empathy few humans hold. 

Any reluctance Lio held falls away and he nods, climbing into the bed, Galo not far behind him. As Lio settles, he breathes in the warm scent of smoke and spice that clings to the sheets and pillows, tinged with the slightest hint of salt. The whole bed smells like Galo, Lio realizes, and something in him melts with the notion. 

Then, Galo settles in behind him, radiating heat. Clearly getting comfortable, he tosses and arm over Lio’s waist and tucks his head beneath his chin. Lio freezes, flushes a little at the contact, but doesn’t complain. It feels... nice. Grounding. And in that moment, he can’t even remember what had upset him in the first place. The dream seems miles away, and the icy claws in his chest are gone. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep you safe,” Galo mumbles drearily, sleep already blurring into his voice. 

It’s then that Lio feels it the strongest. The subtle burn that comes with fondness and affection. He feels it blooming soft and warm in his chest, like smoldering, settling coals. It spreads down to his fingers and toes, and up over his face, a pleasant heat flaring across his cheeks and the tips of his ears. And it’s a bone deep thing, too, sinking deep into him and rooting to stay. Despite himself, he smiles, something full, something real that seems to be coming more and more freely lately. 

“Thank you,” Lio breathes, even though he’s pretty sure Galo already fell asleep. And if the arm slung around him tightens a little, well, Lio pretends not to notice.

He falls asleep that way and wakes up tangled with Galo, face buried in his chest. And, for once, he doesn’t feel like getting up right away. 

For a long time, Lio never considered that this fire slowly rising in him might need somewhere to go. He was fine settling in it, simmering in it. But, now, it’s harder to control, harder to resist, and he thinks Galo has a hand in this, too, because he seems like he’s starting to figure things out. When Lio makes a move, Galo doesn’t always grin back at him in the same oblivious way he used to. Now, there’s recognition in his eyes, and gestures go reciprocated rather than unnoticed. When Lio walks a little closer than strictly necessary, Galo loops an arm around his waist and pulls him close. When Lio stares a little too long, sometimes he catches Galo’s eyes straying his way too, like there’s some kind of magnetic pull there. 

Though, if there is one thing Lio has learned about Galo, it’s that he speaks far better with actions than with words. So there’s no sappy swapping of confessions when they finally work out that they’re on the same page. It’s just a shift, a clicking into place, and they both understand it. And Lio finally gets to let his fire loose. 

It’s after a late night rescue, with emotion and adrenaline running high, and Lio finds whatever heat and pressure have been coiling in his stomach are winding up tighter. Then something snaps in him at the sight of Galo, smudged with soot, beaming and bright and so incredibly alive, and the tension shatters to let an inferno loose. 

The moment they’re behind closed doors, Lio goes on the prowl. He thought it would be a desperate, frantic thing, and the way his pulse pounds with need matches that description perfectly, but instead he savors the fire licking up his ribs and stalks forward. Galo doesn’t even have the courtesy to look intimidated. No, he is nothing if not eager, and meets every step Lio takes until they’re fitted together in the still-dark entryway. Galo bends, Lio tilts his chin up, and lips meet in a hurried rush. Lio’s hands wind up Galo’s chest, over his neck, and sink into the hair at the back of his head. He tugs Galo down, wanting, needing. Galo complies; he steps into Lio’s space, closer and closer until his arms have to wind around Lio’s arching back and pull him tight to his chest to keep him from toppling over. Though, even when he can’t lean in anymore, Galo deepens the kiss, and Lio nips back, catching a lip between his teeth, vying for control. Galo more than happily yields, something rumbling deep in his chest when Lio pulls against his lip then soothes with a kiss. 

Whenever Lio finally takes a moment to breathe, he leans back against Galo’s arms, kicking a foot off the ground and folding his arms behind his head, just because he knows he can. Galo won’t drop him. Something smug curves at his lips as he catches his breath, feeding the flames curling in his lungs. Galo grins back, only his is bright and pure to Lio’s wolfish edge. 

“You trust me?” Lio asks quietly, the sound coming just a little gravelly. Though, it seems a pointless question; their trust has run blood deep since the day they saved the world together, and if Lio has anything to do with it, that won’t change anytime soon. 

“Of course,” Galo answers without missing a beat, already leaning back in to chase Lio’s lips. Though, Lio tips his chin up, dodging, and Galo’s lips land on the column of his throat instead. Hardly an effective diversion, because Galo just starts kissing and sucking marks into the pale skin there. Shivering under the affections, Lio lets a thin whine slip past his lips before he brings both hands to Galo’s jaw, doing his best to wrench the mouth from his throat. He wants Galo to see this, and he can’t do that buried in the crook of Lio’s neck. 

Something confused, and maybe a little hurt (Lio did feel guilty for a second) flashes across Galo’s face. Though, a moment later, when Lio’s hands slide from his jaw, he seems to understand. Because, now, there is real, tangible fire burning on Lio’s fingertips, lighting up the space with the distinctive blue and violet flicker of Promare flames. And, god, does it feel good to let the fire ripple out of his body, catching spark and burning on his skin. Lio melts a little at the heat, the sensation, the relief of no longer having to so tightly control the blaze. And when he reaches carefully back out, leaving every opportunity for Galo to pull away, or rightfully drop him on his ass, the flames meet skin the same way cerulean eyes meet pearly pink ones. Intense, burning, but never cruel. Instead of blistering and charing the skin, Lio’s flames only burn with heat enough to feel, not so much as to scorch. The start of something low and wanting starts in Galo’s throat, and his eyes flutter and fall half lidded. 

“Okay?” Lio asks, removing his hands long enough to let Galo answer. 

For a moment, he only hums, low and gravelly, and that sound does something amazing to the liquid heat pooling beneath the pit of Lio’s stomach. Then, he drops his forehead to rest against Lio’s, their lips brushing before he answers. “You’re so hot,” he mumbles against Lio’s mouth. 

For a moment, Lio isn’t sure whether to laugh, flush, or roll his eyes. He’s pretty sure he does all three, though the blush crawling up his cheeks is entirely involuntary. “I’ll take that as a yes,” Lio replies after the laughter fades from his throat. Galo only gives him the slightest of nods before diving back in and capturing Lio’s lips again. 

Though, with a new sort of advantage quite literally at his fingertips, Lio doesn’t let him lead for long. Instead, he takes control, planting both feet firmly beneath him and sliding fiery hands up under Galo’s shirt (that he is actually wearing for once) to press flat against the toned muscle of his abdomen. Galo groans at that, the sound pulling from deep in his chest, and Lio presses harder, pushes until they’re stumbling backward, kiss never coming apart aside from one or the other stealing an occasional ragged breath. 

Lio doesn’t relent until the back of Galo’s legs hit the couch arm and buckle, forcing him to sit. Though, it pisses Lio off a little that they’re nearly the same height with Galo sitting propped on the arm of the couch while he stands. Regardless, he plants a knee between Galo’s legs and bites at his bottom lip, hands snaking higher to his chest all the while. Black fabric slides and bunches out of his way, and Lio’s heart lurches hungrily when Galo finally reaches over his head and tears the shirt off, lips coming apart. 

Now, when Lio trails his hands up and down Galo’s torso, he’s entranced by the way the flame licks into every groove and ridge of the toned muscle, undeniably hot with the way sweat beads in its wake. Galo’s breaths are coming fast now, in harsh pants, his eyes fallen shut, and there’s something to the arch and furrow of his brow that catches Lio’s attention. So he slows his movements, watches and studies while he soothes his own starved lungs. Galo’s brows crease and groove, pull together when Lio traces the lines of his ribs or the cut of his abdomen, more so when he digs his fingers in harder. Then, they smooth and ease when he goes back to absently trailing across the skin, feather-light. His breath hitches and catches much the same, coming in an easy rush when Lio backs off. 

“Too hot?” Lio asks, just as much out of concern as in challenge. 

“You kidding?” Galo asks—pants, really—cracking open a furiously bright eye to meet Lio’s gaze. The amount of vibrant life Galo carries chases his breath away sometimes. “I’m a firefighter, I can take the heat.”

That’s all Lio needs to hear. He smirks and flexes his fingers, the flame flaring a little brighter and spilling down his hands to coat his palms, too. Though, before he can go back to roving over Galo’s chest, he gets pulled into a sloppy kiss. His hands find purchase on the back of Galo’s neck, while larger hands fumble with the belts around his waist. Anticipation winds high while he waits for them to come undone, and the rattle of metal sends sparks up his spine. The buckle unlatches and the belt comes loose. Then Galo’s trying to push the fabric aside, kissing down Lio’s jaw and nudging his chin up with his nose to trail lower. 

Huffing an amused chuckle, Lio slips his burning hands from Galo’s neck to undo the second latch himself. He knows every belt by heart. Two at his throat, though those always stay open anyway, two around his waist, two at each thigh. Though, it’s no surprise Galo hardly has the patience to work at one. Lio shrugs out of the dark leather, dropping it to the floor alongside Galo’s abandoned shirt. And as soon as the garment is gone, he feels the sloppy, open mouthed kisses trailing from his neck down to his chest. He locks up a breath in his lungs to stop the whine it wanted to come out as when Galo stops his mouthing to run his tongue clear up the length of Lio’s chest. Shuddering, he reaches around to grip at Galo’s back, holding tight to the toned muscle there like an anchor. 

The heat, the heavy scent of smoke and spice all around him, the electrifying sparks that jump to his skin wherever Galo touches him, Lio realizes how dizzying it all is when he sways a little on his feet, his weight tipping forward a bit. It wasn’t something he noticed, the subtle pitch into lightheadedness, but now that his head’s all fuzzy, with every breath in, every drag of lips on skin, he feels just how much Galo affects him. And he wants more. 

Letting momentum carry him forward, Lio tips in closer, hands sliding back around again to push at Galo’s chest until he gets the hint and maneuvers over the arm of the couch to lie back on it properly. Lio follows him over, moving to straddle his hips and lick into his mouth all at once. It’s hot and messy, neither of the having the breath left to do much more than crash into each other, panting against reddened lips. Though, as Lio settles his weight back into his hips, reveling in the choked exhale it pulls from Galo, something devilishly tempting edges into his mind. 

Sitting back and up, leering down to meet Galo’s gaze with a dangerous glint to his eyes, a knife’s edge to his smile, Lio savors the anticipatory curl of his stomach. Then, he brings one burning hand up to his own lips, every movement slow and purposeful. Fire catches and clings on the delicate skin there, dancing in flickers of lavender and indigo. And just to top that, Lio opens his mouth wide and sets two fingers to his tongue, letting the flame pool and burn there too. 

Under him, Galo goes wide eyed before heavy lids fall to block out his bright gaze. He groans, hoarse, and Lio feels it in the hand he left lingering, splayed across Galo’s chest. He feels every hitch in his breath, every pleasant quiver of muscle. Suddenly, he can’t help but feel proud that he was able to coax that response from Galo. That he was the one who turned the immovable firefighting force into a wanting mess. 

Lio grins, then bares his teeth with the same dramatic flair he’s always had an affinity for. He knows how it must look, all sharp edges and neon flame, and he almost regrets that he can’t see it himself. But Galo’s reaction is enough; his spine curls and he’s restless underneath Lio, muscle pulling tight as he shifts and flexes, trying to eliminate the space between them. That sets Lio’s pulse racing, and he finds he’s done teasing and showing off. Instead, he lets Galo tug him down by the wrists until their chests are nearly flush together, only Lio bracing himself on an elbow keeping them apart. But, that works just fine, because it means he can mouth at the junction between Galo’s neck and shoulder, driving him wild with the newfound heat.

And, it gives Galo the space to grapple at Lio’s pants, insistent on getting them off. This time, he seems to have a better memory of the number of belts, because his hands go right for them, pulling roughly at the bands around Lio’s thighs. He manages to work one free without too much trouble, but the next proves a challenge and he’s pushing Lio back to his knees, scrabbling for a better grip. 

“Lio, fuck-” is all Galo manages, panting into Lio’s chest as he wrestles with the remaining buckles. “So many belts,” he rasps, caught somewhere between a laugh and a frustrated growl. 

“Sorry.” Lio huffs a chuckle into the side of Galo’s throat, pressing burning lips to his pulse, beneath his ear, at the edge of his jaw, just to watch the low shudder roll through his body. It’s addicting, Lio thinks, and he could do it all day, drinking in the sight. But neither of them wants to wait all day; that much is obvious with the way Galo is still clawing at his belt, finally pulling the second latch free.

He shifts to the other leg and Lio makes no move to help him, instead trailing his tongue along the shell of his ear. That draws a long, low moan, and Galo works faster, freeing the last two buckles. In a hurried rush, Lio obliges to help and shimmies out of the last of his clothes, shifting his weight to allow Galo enough space to do the same. Skin comes against bared skin as Lio settles back into place. For a fleeting moment, Lio just savors the contact, but Galo is eager, and he’s just as hungry, so it doesn’t last long. 

Leaning into instinct and whatever experience Galo has to offer, Lio works out where to go from there. Being the leader of Mad Burnish didn’t exactly offer much free time for fooling around, and it didn’t help that most of his people would’ve rather lined up to bow at his boots than get close and personal. Still, he isn’t clueless, and Lio knows a thing or two of pleasure, even if it mostly came at his own hand, late into frustrated nights. 

So, Lio sticks to what he knows. Blowing out a breath, tongues of flame trailing off his lips in the rush of air, he sinks back onto his knees. Slowly, deliberately, he drags his hands down Galo’s chest, further down his abdomen, savoring the way his breathing quickens under the touch. 

“Galo,” he breathes just loud enough to draw his attention, fingers resting lightly against the point of his hips. 

When Lio catches his eyes, the blue burning cool and bright, he holds the gaze, daring, challenging Galo to do the same. Then, nimble fingers move to where he knows they’re most sorely needed. 

Lio revels in watching Galo come apart in his hands. 

But, apparently, that sentiment doesn’t only go one way. 

Pushing a hand back through his hair, Lio lounges back against the arm of the couch. Desire still hums in his ears, burns and blazes and rages deep beneath the pit of his stomach, but he sits back and watches with pink cheeks and something jittery in his chest while Galo struggles to catch his breath and come back to himself. Wild hair spills around his face, thoroughly damp with sweat and wrecked out of its usual spikes courtesy of Lio’s wandering hands, and he still looks striking. 

Though, Lio isn’t given much time to admire, because as soon as he’s recovered, Galo comes to meet him. At first, it’s only a simple, easy kiss, Galo’s lips pleasantly warm and lazy against Lio’s bite and fire. Lio can almost taste the bliss in the line of his lips, the way they curve up into the beginnings of a smile. It’s almost as intoxicating as the earlier desperate, bruising rush and drag of lips. Almost. Though, Lio can take the change in pace, swapping frantic passion for something a little more slow burning. No one ever said the biggest, brightest blaze burned the hottest. No, pinprick stars, explosive firecrackers, raked, smoldering coals burned long and scorched hot. 

Besides, he drinks in the low, pleased moans that reverberate through Galo’s chest, and the sound is more than enough to make his toes curl and have something warm and heady swirling through him. In no hurry now, satisfied to really take his time and enjoy this, Lio dips his head lower, licking tongue and flame over the pulse thrumming in Galo’s throat. The relaxed, steady beat speeds a little under his touch, and he finds immense pride in that, a cheshire grin stretching across his lips. This, he realizes, is another type of burn altogether. Not the warmth of fondness, or the spark of passion, but the molten heat of longing and pining coming to a head, of satisfaction. 

Galo never was one to hold back, though, and with Lio having kicked his pulse up faster, shaken the remaining blissful dreariness from his eyes, he takes what he wants. Suddenly, Lio finds warm, broad hands spread across his abdomen, one slipping farther to wrap around his hip. He presses, holds tighter, just enough to keep Lio in place when he tries to shift with the coiling anticipation working him up. Eager, restless, burning, Lio huffs out the beginnings of a whine, only for the sound to die in his throat when Galo bends down, bends forward, opens his mouth and- 

Even without flame on his lips, Galo feels like pure heat.

Lio gasps his name in like oxygen and digs into his shoulders. Everything blurs, goes bright, and the inferno raging in him flares up hard.

Coming down, Lio feels his frantic heartbeat start to calm and soothe. The ache in his lungs starts to ease up and he isn’t gasping anymore, even if his throat still pulls tight with heavy breaths. And, somewhere in the midst of it all, he feels the fire licking at his hands, at his mouth, start to fade and extinguish before it goes out entirely. Even if he wanted to, Lio isn’t sure he could summon any more in its place, so pleasantly sated. The constant burn of tension low in his stomach that was always present around Galo has turned to smoke, too, gone in the rush of an exhale, a contented sigh. 

When he finally finds it in him to open his eyes, he finds ocean eyes gazing back at him, earnest and welcoming and crinkled at the corners with a smile. Though, his own mood softens and crumbles a little when his gaze catches on the angry red settled high over Galo’s shoulders. 

Are those... handprints? 

They’re his own, Lio realizes, the skin tender and marred with something like a sunburn. His control over the flames must have slipped a little, getting out of hand and burning too hot. Gingerly, he reaches out and sets cooled fingers against the burn, and a sigh of relief filters through his lips when Galo doesn’t even so much as flinch. Still, Lio’s brows pull together and his lips turn down ever so slightly at the corners. 

“That burn-“ Lio starts, voice a little raw, but Galo smothers his concerns with a hand over his mouth. His lips still tingle pleasantly at the touch, tender and kiss reddened. 

“You can’t hurt me. Any fire you start, I’ll put it out,” Galo says, assured and confident in the way only he can be. 

Lio isn’t sure if that’s really how it works, but the sentiment warms his heart regardless, and Galo’s infectious, sunshiny personality worms it’s way under his skin until he can’t help but smile back. He actually laughs, wrestling Galo’s hand free from his mouth and sitting up to meet him. Still feeling contentedly loose and boneless, Lio lounges against his chest, soaking up the warmth of his skin and the easy way strong arms wrap around his back. 

Lio’s sure their way of communicating their feelings beats a sappy love confession any day, but he still mumbles the words against Galo’s chest, and smiles when he hears them repeated back without hesitation.


End file.
